


NRI

by KathakDancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Desi Characters, Desi Harry Potter, Desi uncles really do provide exposition irl, Gen, Microaggresions, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Romantic Relationships are not the main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathakDancer/pseuds/KathakDancer
Summary: NRI - Non-Resident Indian; a person of Indian descent/origin who does not live in India.Navigating the world can be uncomfortable sometimes for Padma, Parvati, and Harry. However, their connections to each other help them find their own place in their culture.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	1. Padma

“Did you tattoo your hands?”

Padma started, looking up from her watch.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, mildly irritated that she had been interrupted taking a patient’s pulse. 

“Your hands,” the patient’s spouse nodded at Padma’s hands. Padma looked down, registering the red-brown mehndi staining her hands and arms.

“Oh no, my sister got married recently. It’s henna,” she explained, looking up with a soothing smile. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was ethnic,” the spouse responded, not registering the tick in Padma’s forehead as she tried to refocus on the patient. “It just looks just a little odd, that’s all!”

Padma didn’t respond, which the spouse took as an opportunity to continue her thoughts. “I thought at first you had put mud on your hands!” she laughed, falling silent as the Healer’s head slowly slid to lock eyes with them.

Padma’s face twisted up into a smile that squinted her eyes shut to feign mirth. “Now, I’m a Healer, why would I have mud on my hands?” she laughed, teeth bared slightly. Her smile peeled off, leaving a mask of professionalism as she turned back to the patient. “Now, give me a moment to check this pulse.”

\--

Padma rolled her eyes, watching her reflection do the same. Mud on her hands, honestly. How stupid could you be? A Healer with dirty hands. And mehndi was so goddamned common now, used by every white girl for a temporary tattoo, how did she not know what is was? 

Exhaling slowly, Padma carefully winged her liner. Well, no use dwelling now. Ignoramuses everywhere, and right now, she had to focus on making herself look perfect. 

Liner successfully done, Padma stood, casting a charm to set her makeup. Slipping on her heels and grabbing her bag, she apparated to the hall, wobbling for only a moment upon landing. 

“Padma!” 

The Desi woman turned, smiling upon seeing Lavender headed towards her. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Lavender said, holding out a hand for Padma to take. “You’re at table 2; it’ll give you easy access to the dance floor!”

Padma let herself be led by the new Mrs. Patil-Brown, setting her bag down by her placard. She looked around at the reception hall, grinning in excitement. “God, it looks ama- wait, are the hor d'oeuvres being served?” she broke off, smelled spices and hearing laughter from the other side of a door.

Lavender nodded, “We just wanted you to know where you were, so you wouldn’t have to worry!”

Padma grinned, giving her sister-in-law a kiss on the cheek before dashing off for food, mint green Anarkali suit swirling around her legs. 

\--

Padma clapped and whooped as Hermione stepped back onto the stage, commanding attention as an excellent MC.

“Thank you for that wonderful speech, Harry and Ron!” she called, smile bright. “Now, for someone close to our lovely Parvati, a performance by the iconic Padma Patil!”

The room erupted into cheers and hollers as Padma stood, barefoot and ghungroo clad, stepping to the floor and facing the newlyweds. Parvati beamed and clutched Lavender’s hand, bouncing in excitement as Padma took up her starting pose. 

The music began from all around them, Padma immediately melting into the sound and letting it pull her arms and legs. Her mehndi stained hands twisted and folded, gesturing out, in, up, and sweeping out to her sides in a quick series of twirls. As her feet slapped intricate patterns against the floor and her body twisted, her face told the story of love and beauty the ways words couldn’t. Her hands and arms arched, delicate and strong to detail flowers braided into hair, pathways leading to loved ones, and praise to gods unnamed. 

Padma’s mind was nothing but joy, connected to herself and her dance passed on from before stories were written. She reveled in Kathak – how it linked her to temples and Mughal courts, gods and demons, spilling through icons until it reached her, in this moment, dancing for her sister’s wedding reception. 

As she whirled to a sharp stop, the music softened, the faint ring of ghungroos the only sound for a suspended moment. The hall then erupted into cheers, Parvati and Lavender rising to clap as they both wiped tears from their eyes. Padma grinned, bowing to them with a wink. She touched the floor, then her chest, and walked to her seat, satisfaction sitting warm in her chest.


	2. Parvati

Parvati sipped her cup of tea, brewed with saffron, ginger, and aconite, letting it sit on her tongue for a count of three before swallowing. While she drank, she set up her table, unlit incense and writing supplies in front of her seat, a tea set with normal chai in the center. 

As she finished her tea, its diving properties humming mildly in her veins, the door to her shop opened, a middle-aged Indian man stepping in. 

“Hello, you must be my divining appointment,” Parvati greeted him, motioning him around the counter. 

“Yes, for the traditional incense seeing,” he replied, setting his jacket on the counter when Parvati nodded. “Here?” he asked, motioning to the table.

“In front of the tea set, if you will,” Parvati replied, setting her empty cup on the counter. She sat down in front of the incense, reviewing with the gentleman the variability of divination and how she may not see what he would like. 

He waved her concerns aside, nodding, face blank.

Parvati gestured for him to help himself to chai, striking a match and lighting the incense. “Will you tell me about yourself?” she prompted him, as she focused on the smoke.

As the man spoke about himself, Parvati watched the smoke for symbols, scribbling down notes. He slowed a few times, narrowing his eyes and looking at her notes, trying to read them upside down and failing. 

After a half-hour, ten minutes of which had been in silence, Parvati sat back and rubbed her eyes. “Alright, let me just decipher these!” she smiled, picking up her notes.

“You know, this isn’t traditionally how it is done,” the man interjected. Parvati looked up, eyebrows furrowed but smiling still.

“I’m sorry if it looks different, but I can assure you I was trai –.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded patronizingly, “I’m sure you were trained by the best London can offer, but India’s Seers use a mantra…”

Parvati sighed to herself, nodding and turning her head back to her notes as he continued, telling her about how it was supposed to be done. Naturally, he knew nothing of divination, then, because he’d realize the mantras were to try and find paths to certain futures – and that was not what he asked for. 

\--

Parvati slipped off her shoes, rolling her shoulders as she entered the flat. It was almost a ritual. She moved first into the kitchen to wash her hands, then headed to a small, doorless cupboard in the living room. Opening one of the coffee table drawers, she drew out a stick of incense and lit it, setting it in in the cupboard in front of a few select idols. 

She sighed a little. “Why are Desi men like this?” she asked the idols inside, not bothering to clarify; they knew what she meant. She touched the cupboard’s edge, then her forehead before walking back to the kitchen. She hummed softly to herself as she pulled out a wide pot, setting it on the stove before summoning ingredients and charming the knives.

As the ingredients were prepared, she turned on the stove, heating up a little oil and adding cumin seeds. She waited for them to pop. This all could be done with magic, but somehow, the food tasted better when done by hand, Parvati mused to herself as she listend to the seeds pop.

\--

The door opened and a bell-like voice rang in. “I’m home!”

Parvati turned, a spice tin in her hands. “Welcome home!” she called, watching Lavender walk in the room. 

Lavender smiled widely at her wife cooking, walking up to press a kiss to her lips before peering at the simmering pot. “This looks amazing, darling!”

Parvati grinned and nudged Lavender with her hip. “Go freshen up – it’ll be done in a few.”

As Lavender flounced away, Parvati turned back to her vegetables, opening her tin and setting it on the counter. She pinched turmeric from the tin, sprinkling it generously over the vegetables before adding red chili powder, cumin powder, and salt. After mixing the vegetables, she let it sit on the stove and picked up the magically made roti, setting it on the table and summoning a pitcher of water, glasses, and dishes. She then retrieved a bowl of cut cucumbers and red onion, sprinkled it with lemon juice and cumin powder, and set it down just as Lavender returned, dressed comfortably with wet hair.

“How did I ever live without your cooking?” Lavender teased, sitting down as Parvati brought the vegetables, shifting excitedly like a child watching their parent retrieve a present. 

“With the House-Elves’ cooking,” Parvati responded, setting down the pot. She picked up Lavender’s plate, spooning the spicy mix on it and adding roti and the salad on the side, content with her care of Lavender.

As Parvati sat down, Lavender waved her wand, magicking Parvati’s plate so it was ready by the time she was settled in her seat. Parvati chuckled, allowing her wife to return the care and ripping a piece of roti off with her right hand. Lavender mimicked her, scooping up vegetables with the roti and popping it into her mouth with a content groan. Parvati laughed, eating as well and starting her story about the day. As she and Lavender exchanged stories, as food was cleared, and as incense swirled soft through the apartment, Parvati felt calm with the world.  



	3. Harry

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the floor. He had been sitting there for an hour at a puja for the Bhatt family; Kajol had invited him as a former housemate. However, after an hour of listening to prayers recited in a language he could not understand, he was just about done. 

He started as everyone around him started to rise, scrambling to his feet as paper were passed out, some with Hindi lettering, some with English phonetics, all foreign looking to him. As he stared as his sheet (having selected one with familiar letters), a bell rang out and singing started. He followed along on the sheet fairly closely, although he felt a bit embarrassed that he could not pronounce these words. 

Someone poked him in the side, and he looked to see Kajol gesturing at him. She beckoned him up and placed his right hand on a plate holding a lit diya. 

“It’s the aarti, hold it with me,” she mumbled softly, moving the plate to the right, to the left, then clockwise. Harry let her guide his movements, knowing that an aarti was a part of the puja, but not totally sure what significance it held. 

“When do I let go?” he asked softly after the third go-around.

“You can let go now,” she murmured, nodding to an elderly couple behind Harry.

He moved quickly out of the way and shuffled to the back of the room, watching the rest of the aarti finish.

Kajol came around with the plate and, taking cue from others, he moved his hands over the diya and set them against his face. This part he knew; it was taking a blessing. The next part caught him off guard, though: when Kajol moved on and a little boy came forward with a tin of sweets.

“Oh, no thank you,” he said, smiling politely

The child blinked at him, confused, and didn’t move. 

“It’s prasad, you have to eat it,” someone said behind him. He turned to see Vaisey, who was still broad from their Hogwarts days playing Quidditch.

“Oh, I…,” Harry stammered, unsure. Vaisey stepped forward, tugging Harry’s right hand forward and putting a little of the sweet in his palm, then doing the same for himself. 

“God’s food, or blessed food,” Vaisey explained, popping the morsel into his mouth. “It’s good luck to eat it, and bad luck to refuse.” Harry nodded, eating the sweet and choking a little on the sugar content. “Yeah, I don’t really like ‘em either. Why I take as little as possible.”

“Thanks, Vaisey,” Harry mumbled, not looking the former Slytherin in the eye. 

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Everyone fucks up a little at pujas.”

\--

Just a few weeks later, Harry found himself trudging up the drive to the Patil home, hand in hand with Ginny and behind Ron and Hermione. As they neared the door, it burst open, Padma and Parvati spilling out of it with laughter.

“Come in, come in!” Parvati grabbed Hermione and tugged her inside, Padma calling into the house to announce their arrival.

“There’s snacks, if you want them!” Padma led the to the kitchen. Lavender was seated with Seema Patil, tea in hand. Vikram Patil stood nearby, holding a plate of pakoras.

“Oh, you made it!” Seema Aunty clasped her hands together excitedly, standing to embrace them all. “And you wore white!”

Harry nodded; they had all been asked to wear white when they came over today. Nerves danced in his gut – he knew today was a holiday (he had forgotten what the name was), but what with his ignorance at the Bhatt’s puja, he was worried.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ron groaned loudly. Looking over, he saw the man, mouth full of pakora and eyes fluttering in delight.

“Aren’t they amazing!” Padma vocalized his expression, biting into one. Ginny nodded, enraptured, and Hermione looked adoringly at her husband.

“I’ll give you the recipe; the trick is the oil!” Vikram Uncle exclaimed. He bustled off, returning with more plates of fried snacks. “We’ll have more after we play Holi!”

Harry relaxed a little. At least he knew the name now.

\--

“Will you come help me set up?” Seema Aunty asked the twins, standing as the remaining snacks disappeared.

The girls nodded, and followed Seema Aunty into the backyard.

“Sit down, the rest of you,” Vikram Uncle said, “Let me walk you through what’s going on! Have any of you played Holi before?”

Harry shook his head along with the others. Vikram Uncle leaned back on the counter, grinning with excitement. “Holi is how we welcome spring and is the festival of colors! We play Holi by throwing colored powder at each other. The ladies are getting powders out now to celebrate!”

“Is that why we’re wearing white? To show the colors better?” Hermione asked, ever the eager student.

“Correct!” Vikram Uncle beamed. “Now, shall we go outside?”

The group started that way, but Vikram Uncle grasped Harry by the shoulder.

“Dikaro,” he said, smiling gently, “I know this is all a bit new to you, but please do know you’re welcome to celebrate anything with us.”

Harry smiled, a warmth filling his chest at the acceptance, coupled with the relief of having the festival explained a little bit. 

“And don’t hesitate to ask, son,” Vikram Uncle added. “You should not be ashamed of seeking knowledge.”

Harry nodded, and Vikram Uncle placed his hand atop Harry’s head, giving him a silent blessing before pulling him into a tight hug. Harry closed his eyes, care seeping into his body and filling him with a sense of belonging and acceptance.

“Harry!” a voice called, the ‘y’ turning to an ‘i’ and the ‘a’ becoming more ‘u’-like in sound.

He looked over to see Seema Aunty calling him from the door. He walked over to her and she smiled dotingly, placing her hands on his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. When she pulled away, her smile turned mischievous and the Patil twins erupted into shrieks of laughter.

Harry reached up to touch his cheeks, feeling something there. When he pulled it away, it was stained purple. He looked back at Seema Aunty, who held up her hands, grinning, her palms coated with purple dust.

She took off, Harry hot on her heels as he scooped up blue powder from a nearby container and lobbed it at Ron, catching him in the side as he rubbed green in Ginny’s hair. Something exploded softly against his back, yellow drifting around him as he turned to see Parvati on the ground, having clearly dodged a throw from Lavender. He laughed loudly, watching Padma and her father mutually rub powder on each other’s cheeks, Hermione just beyond with a fistful each of red and purple, running towards Harry. 

He charged her, lifting her up over his shoulder and twirling her as she laughed and stuffed powder into his hair and down his shirt. He dropped her in front of Ron, who promptly smacked them both with a plume of green. Harry grabbed a handful of yellow and spun, spotting Ginny in a cloud of red with Lavender and took off, heart pumping and laughter wild in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Princess_in_Armor for beta-ing this fic!


End file.
